


Proper welcome home

by kirakira_nanoda



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakira_nanoda/pseuds/kirakira_nanoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock welcomes John home after three weeks away</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proper welcome home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



> Just a quick pwp I wrote for Random Nexus. She sent me a couple of packets of my fav American cereal so I wrote her porn. It's a good business we have set up

‘You’re back. Good. Where is it?’

John sighed, key still in the lock. He hadn’t even made it through the door yet. ‘Yeah, I missed you too, Sherlock,’ he mumbled, pocketing his keys and hefting his bag across the threshold.

‘Yes. Obviously that went without saying,’ Sherlock said, dismissing the statement with a flick of his wrist. ‘But I repeat, where is it?’ He looked John up and down, narrowing his eyes when he didn’t see what he wanted.

‘It’s in my bag,’ John said, stepping in front of Sherlock to stop the detective from going straight for his suitcase. ‘But I really don’t feel obligated to give it to you,’ he continued. ‘I’ve been away for three weeks. I think I deserve a bit of a better welcome home before I hand it over.’

Sherlock sighed as if John was a source of great annoyance, but did at least have the good sense to lose the attitude when John frowned at him and crossed his arms indignantly across his chest.

‘Oh, John,’ Sherlock said, dropping that deep voice deeper and sliding right up to his lover. ‘Was it really only three weeks? It seems an age. It’s been hell without you.’

John cocked his eyebrow. ‘I think you might be taking the piss,’ he said, so far still unimpressed with Sherlock’s welcoming home abilities.

‘Whatever would give you that idea?’ Sherlock smirked, planting kisses along John’s jaw until John finally uncrossed his arms and let them fall away from his chest. He expected a kiss to his lips, but Sherlock apparently had other plans.

‘What are you doing?’ John had to ask as Sherlock started to work his hands south from his shoulders, deftly loosening every button on John’s shirt in his wake.

‘Giving you a better welcome home,’ Sherlock replied, lips now following the same path right down to the top of John’s jeans. He looked right up at him and John’s tongue instinctively darted out to wet his lips.

‘I didn’t quite mean… you don’t have… keep going.’ If Sherlock insisted then John was hardly going to be rude.

Sherlock chuckled and tugged John’s belt, letting his jeans fall away from his hips. John shuddered at the sudden rush of cold air upon his legs. He didn’t believe Sherlock one bit when he said he was sorry, but John didn’t hold that against him terribly long. Sherlock’s hands ran up to John’s hips and pushed him back against the door, holding him there. 

John revelled with the solid surface at his back. Sherlock had given him a lot of kinks in their many sexual encounters, but being pushed against walls and doors had to be John’s favourite. Was that even a proper kink? John did not give the slightest fuck if it wasn’t. Give him his sexy man and a hard surface any day.

Sherlock mouthed along the outline of John’s cock, sucking him through the material of his briefs and getting John wet in a way he loved to hate. His underwear was now sticky and uncomfortable, and the cotton trapped in the heat from Sherlock’s breath. Sherlock always made him feel so hot, and John always feared that his nether regions were going to spontaneously combust. As of yet, they never had, but he was worried there was a first time for everything.

John could barely stand the way Sherlock kept him trapped, but he didn’t hate it. He was far from hating it. He likened it to torture, but he always succumbed to it and had yet to be disappointed with the result. The sudden change in temperature when Sherlock eventually ripped off his ruined pants was yet another kink John had to confess to. The pleasurable shock of the sudden chill was second only to either Sherlock’s hand or mouth warming him back up.

The barest hint of teeth through the cotton sent a tingle up John’s spine. He could no longer resist the urge to tangle his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock moaned appreciatively and slid his hand up the leg of John’s knickers, grabbing a decent handful of arse. John swore and the door became less of a mean to allow access into the flat, and more an object purely to keep John upright.

‘Sherlock!’ 

Disregarding the fact Sherlock had said it in sarcasm, three weeks actually had been hell. John’s hand was nothing compared to Sherlock, and he always felt a little self-conscious about pleasuring himself in a hotel. He hadn’t gotten off the entire time he’d been in America, and he was quite eager to show Sherlock just how much he had missed him.

Sherlock’s hand slipped lower, now teasing along John’s taint, and John desperately tried to squirm out of his underwear. Sherlock was relentless, however, and barely even paused to slap John’s hands away. It was clear he wasn’t going to let John out of his knickers.

‘You are an insatiable tease,’ John complained, quite amazed he could still manage words more than two syllables long.

‘I am that, yes,’ Sherlock replied, kissing John’s stomach. ‘I also know you enjoy it far more than you care to let on. But most importantly, you’ve just come off a ten hour plane flight. I am happy to give you a warm welcome home, but your cock is not going in my mouth until you’ve had a shower.’

John huffed as Sherlock stood. ‘It’s nice to know you care about personal hygiene at least, since I know, for a fact, when I open the fridge there will be at least half a dozen dismembered body parts, oozing god knows what onto our food.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, John,’ Sherlock said, stepping in close once more and sneaking his hand down the front of John’s pants. ‘There’s no food in our fridge.’

John’s disgruntled reply was lost in Sherlock’s kiss, and annoyance forgotten. Any grudge he may have had about Sherlock turning their kitchen into a biological hazard (yet again), disappeared, even as he made the mental note to have a stern talk to Molly (also yet again)about giving Sherlock free range in the morgue.

John scratched his nails down the door before applying the same technique down Sherlock’s back. Yes, give him his sexy man and a door any day, and John Watson would be a very happy man. There was a light thump as John’s head was pushed back against the wood and a very heady moan as Sherlock kept him pinned there with his kiss. Could kissing be a kink? If so it was yet another thing Sherlock drove him mad with. 

Sherlock pulled lightly at John’s bottom lip, biting down softly before opening his mouth and pressing back into the kiss. The noise was obscene but the kiss was far from ungraceful. Sherlock’s skill kept it together even as John struggled to keep up. He would blame most of his failings on Sherlock’s hand down the front of his pants, but the both knew John would hardly fare better in its absence.

There had been something of a lack of practical experience on Sherlock’s side, but the git was a fast learner and had no problems pointing out everything John was doing wrong. Sherlock had surpassed John in their first makeout session, and since then John had been reading every Cosmopolitan article he could to catch up.

John turned his head to catch his breath, and swallowed, tasting Sherlock in his saliva. Sherlock’s cologne was all he could smell, and his touch the only thing that mattered. His man had, once again, dominated his senses, and with a moan, John felt the beginning of his end creep up his spine. 

John started to shake, heaving heavily against the door. His voice hitched and what should have been a call of Sherlock’s name came out as little more than a whimper. Heat reddened his cheeks, and the only thing keeping him anchored was his grip on Sherlock’s shirt. A twist of the wrist and a well timed bite to his throat was all it took to undo him, but at least John was more successful this time in crying out Sherlock’s name. 

Sherlock did not let up until John threatened to fall over, and even then the detective continued to indulge in heavy petting of John’s backside area. John let his head fall against Sherlock’s chest, glowing in the aftermath and smirking to himself at the wonderful feeling that was Sherlock’s hands groping his arse. 

‘Was that a better welcome home?’ Sherlock asked after a moment.

‘Yes,’ John breathed. He chuckled a bit as he leaned back to look at his wonderful lover. ‘Yes, it was.’

‘Then maybe you would kindly hand it over now?’ Sherlock replied, avoiding John’s attempt at kissing him.

John sighed deeply, giving up. He reached down to his bag and pulled out the box Sherlock was pining for. ‘Here’s your bloody American cereal,’ John said, shoving the packet of Corn Pops into Sherlock’s outstretched hands. Sherlock immediately hugged the box to his chest and garbled something John supposed was a ‘thank you’ before disappearing into the kitchen.

John sighed again. Sherlock was such a kid sometimes. He pulled his jeans back up and winced. It was not a nice feeling, but at least there was nothing stopping him from getting into a nice, hot shower. He grabbed his suitcase and headed for the bedroom, stopping along his way to watch Sherlock pour a ridiculous amount of his cereal into a bowl. 

John snatched one of the little, yellow balls before Sherlock could slap his hand away, and popped it into his mouth. ‘Actually they taste really nice,’ John said, doubling back to see if he could steal another one.

‘You can’t have any,’ Sherlock snapped, pulling both the bowl and the box out of John’s reach. ‘You only brought back one box, and I am not inclined to share it.’

‘Selfish bastard,’ John muttered. He continued on to the bedroom and hefted his suitcase up onto the bed. He took out the second and third boxes of Sherlock’s stupid cereal, and after very little thought, decided if Sherlock was going to be a dick, then John would just have to keep these for himself.


End file.
